


Ink Stain

by wrackwonder



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:29:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrackwonder/pseuds/wrackwonder
Summary: Theo's power is a blessing and a curse. Trish, however, is a blessing.





	Ink Stain

Sometimes darkness leached in like stained ink.

Theo felt it radiating off of her skin. She could almost touch it. The kitchen was too clean, the food in the fridge was all wrong, she wanted…

She wanted her mind to stop. She wanted to open her skull and lift out her brain and set it down in the sink where it could moulder and wither away into dust. She imagined herself as an empty head, dried gore against her face, the back of her skull like a hinged box, flapping as she moved.

Tea was a good first step. Theo wondered if the warmth would help, but as soon as she set the kettle on, she knew it would not be enough. There was vodka in the freezer, vodka that was only supposed to be for special occasions now, but it was a stupid rule and a stupid promise and Theo had no patience for stupid rules or stupid promises.

She’d chosen an old pair of leather gloves as soon as she walked in the door. They were driving gloves, technically, and she hadn’t worn them in ages, but they felt right on her hands, as if she’d been born to them. They shielded her fingers from the icy bottle and from everything else and the vodka burned perfectly when she took a sip.

Theo closed her eyes and tried to focus on the drink, but it was useless. She was shaken and nauseous and her heart was too loud. She could hear her own blood sloshing through her body and she just wanted it all to be quiet. To go away for a few seconds.

When the door to their apartment swung open thirty minutes later, Theo made no move to hide her drink. Nor did she get up from the couch. She stayed where she was, the bottle in hand, and sat with her eyes closed in the dark living room.

“Jesus, the traffic!” Trish said, bustling through the space. Theo could sense the lights in the kitchen come on and she could hear Trish opening cupboards.

“Do you want to cook something or we could order in? Actually, we’re ordering. I’d murder for Thai right now…”

The sound of Trish’s voice was not a balm. Theo swallowed the yell in her throat, she pushed down the hard words because Trish had not earned them.

“Theo?”

Theo took another swig from the bottle, the sound enough to alert Trish to her presence.

“Hey, what’s going on over here?”

There was the sound of feet moving across the kitchen into their carpeted living room. A beat later, Theo felt Trish remove the vodka bottle from her hand. She slowly opened her eyes to find Trish kneeling in front of her, brows furrowed in concern.

“Bad day?” Trish asked, taking one of Theo’s hands and lifting it between them. She thumbed Theo’s leather-covered palm.

“You could say that.” Theo tried to grab the vodka again, but Trish set it down behind her.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Theo said. She wanted to drink about it.

“Want to go to the club? Dance it out?”

“_No_. I want vodka. Maybe a shower. Mostly vodka.”

Trish sighed and offered Theo an affectionate smirk. Given the circumstances, Theo had no idea why Trish looked so…Trish-like. The day had been shit and they were sitting in the dark and Theo hadn’t had enough vodka to make her forget, only enough to make her want more.

“Okay, _Theodora_, it’s time to use your big girl words.”

Theo folded her arms across her chest. Trish sighed and without another word, she placed one hand on either side of Theo’s thighs and climbed up into her lap. It was startling at first, Theo released a _wha?_ and then leaned back, settling against the cushions behind her.

Trish stared down into Theo’s face in that way she had, that calculated, curious way, and Theo wanted to look anywhere but her wife’s eyes. Except the vodka made her bold and somehow staring Trish down made her feel braver than she was.

“What happened today?” Trish asked, her hands folding into Theo’s.

“I did something dumb and now I want to drink about it. Is that allowed?”

“No. You haven’t put the gloves on in months. What happened, Theo?”

It was useless to resist, which was unfair and annoying. Theo liked resisting, she liked keeping everything deep inside a corner of her guts where it could fester. She liked the burn, she liked how it drove her forward. It’s where she kept her mom and Nellie, her two ghosts, festering and burning and pushing.

Except Trish had a way of cracking Theo open, of shining a light into all of those lovely dark spaces, and Theo hated how defenceless it made her feel. Hated it. And craved it.

“I shook a patient’s hand. That’s all, okay?”

“And what did you feel?” Trish squeezed Theo’s hands and brought one up to her mouth where she pressed a kiss against Theo’s knuckles. Theo wished that Trish wasn’t wearing a long sleeve shirt. She wished she could see all the shapes and colours across her wife’s skin.

“He’s going to kill his entire family someday and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Trish startled, eyes wide in alarm.

“Holy shit, Theo, did you call the cops?”

“And tell them what? I touched a kid’s hand and saw his deep desire to slit his mother’s throat?”

“Jesus…”

“The family cat died. Parents were concerned the kids weren’t coping. Little sister refuses to go near her brother, says he killed Mr. Mittens. Big brother denies it,” Theo said, shrugging her shoulders as if she was explaining her lunch order or the directions to a grocery store.

“Let me guess? Big brother killed Mr. Mittens.”

“He told me he didn’t, cried and everything, but as he was doing it I _saw_ him kill the cat. He liked it. He wants to do it again.”

Theo lowered her head, closing her eyes again.

“It was so cold. _He_ was so cold, his…his insides were cold. I can’t…Trish, I’m freezing,” Theo said.

“Okay, Dr. Crain, let’s go,” Trish said, sliding off of Theo’s lap, but never letting go of Theo’s hand.

Theo followed. Trish led.

~*~

Their bedroom wasn’t any warmer than the rest of the apartment. Theo sat on the edge of the bed, still feeling heavy, still cold to the bone, but at least the room was dark and they had nowhere else to be.

Trish began to disrobe before Theo had a chance to fully sit down. She zipped off her hoody and wiggled out of her jeans and despite the heaviness in her chest, Theo couldn’t stop the tiny lift of her lips at the sight of Trish’s matching set. Her wife liked lingerie – Theo had no complaints. She liked her wife _in _lingerie.

Trish had gone with blue today, a light, aqua, summery blue and it clashed so wonderfully with Theo’s darkness. Maybe Trish knew, maybe Trish understood that she had to be the contrast, that if she wasn’t, they’d both drown in the mire. Theo wondered if that was fair to Trish, she wondered if maybe Trish didn’t want to be the light. Maybe Trish wanted…

“Can we get rid of these?” Trish interrupted Theo’s thoughts by taking her gloved hand once again. Theo nodded, pulling the leather from her fingers. The room was cool against her newly exposed skin, her entire body was cool. It made her shiver. Trish climbed into Theo’s lap again, this time setting her forearms over Theo’s shoulders so she could press herself in close. Trish’s warmth felt good even through Theo’s sweater.

“Am I touching you or are you touching me?” Trish asked, patient.

Theo felt the uncomfortable weight of making a decision. Evil licked behind her eyelids, pricking her with a sharp tongue.

And then Trish took her hand, making the decision for both of them, and Theo nearly gasped.

Trish was warm, her presence was warm, and her hand filled Theo with something other than pain. There was heat and joy, a twinge of frustration from her commute home, even hunger…she’d wanted Thai…but mostly there was contentment and patience and love. Theo wished she could consume it all.

She let go of Trish’s hand and placed both palms on her wife’s hips. Each touch unthawed the shattered icicles that had taken root in her belly. Theo followed the lines of Trish’s tattoos, birds and flowers, and the geisha on her right shoulder. She could feel the story of each, the leftover echo of pain from the tattoo needles, but more the excitement, the spontaneity.

Trish’s tattoos grew in number every year. They didn’t talk about it. Trish would come home with a new bandage and Theo would eagerly pull it away, learning this new piece of her wife with the same voracity she’d brought to completing her PhD. She was a good student. An excellent student.

Her fingers found the newest ink, nestled behind Trish’s left elbow, a set of gloves, dainty, old fashioned, done by a talented artist in black and grey. Theo liked this one the best.

Trish sat patiently for Theo, allowing Theo’s every touch, watching her with neutral eyes. Only her hands moved, buried deep in Theo’s hair, lightly scratching at her scalp. The cold faded ever so slightly.

Theo’s power was a curse sometimes. The world was loud and over-crowded and the lightest brush against the wrong object could send her spinning into despair. But then there was Trish. Trish who even on her hardest days found the good. Trish who was her rescue. Trish who could kiss Theo’s forehead and chip away at Theo’s walls and challenge Theo’s anger.

A body could be a house. A house could be a home, though Theo had never known it to be so.

Until Trish. Until Trish’s body.

“I want to touch you,” Theo whispered against Trish’s mouth.

“You’re already touching me,” Trish said, smiling against Theo’s lips.

“I want to go home.”

Trish reached behind her back and undid her bra, tossing it on the floor. Theo lowered her face, pressing her forehead against the blue inked heart on her wife’s chest. Trish thrust her hips just a little, just enough for Theo to understand and Theo moved the hand that was wrapped around Trish’s arm down, into her panties, deeper, until she entered her with two fingers.

Trish moaned, but Theo moaned louder, curling her fingers and staying still, holding Trish there, feeling…feeling everything.

Love and want and happiness and need and trust and fear and vulnerability and overwhelming warmth, so warm…

Theo always felt Trish strongest here, she always knew the truth of her heart when Trish let her inside. She didn’t want to move, she wanted to stay inside Trish, to feel all that Trish felt, to be with Trish, but it was selfish, it was so ridiculously selfish.

And then Trish squeezed Theo’s fingers on her own. Once. Then again. Theo moved her thumb, brushing it against Trish’s clit, finding the spot that made Trish cry out.

Trish pushed back just a little, still gyrating against Theo’s fingers, and pulled at Theo’s sweater. It was impossible to remove it without pulling out, and Theo couldn’t bring herself to do it, so she let Trish grasp and tug until the sweater was off one arm. Trish made quick work of Theo’s bra and it dangled down, leaving her half-dressed. But it was enough for Trish who pushed their bodies together, who forced more skin on skin contact.

Theo felt winded, she felt her vision fade, but more so she let herself feel. After a day of pushing away emotions, she let herself _feel _and all she could feel was Trish all around her. They fell back on the bed, Theo careful not to hurt her wife, but she was buried so deep and Trish was heavy against her body, even as she thrust and squeezed and encouraged Theo’s thumb to move in faster circles against her clit.

Theo wondered if Trish’s tattoos would leak onto her skin, if they could share the ink as they shared everything else. She wondered if the birds and the flowers could survive the winter that was her soul.

Theo closed her eyes and gave into it all, into the blinding warmth, and when Trish finished, Theo cried out, finally warm again, finally home, overwhelmed by the purity of Trish’s light, of her trust, of how good she felt.

Goodness and light and purity. Theo had not known any of them since Hill House. Since before Hill House.

She saw Nellie in the light. And her mother. Her dad. She saw trees in summer and the sun setting against mountains and the ocean, stretched out, forever and ever. She saw everything and nothing and it felt so right.

“I love you,” Trish said against Theo’s shoulder.

“I love you too.”

“You can stay.”

Theo swallowed hard. Trish squeezed the fingers still nestled deep inside.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“No. I like how it feels.” Trish sprawled over Theo’s body, her legs on either side of Theo’s hips.

They were quiet for a while, each breathing against each other, each content in the silence.

“You’re seeing your family tomorrow,” Trish whispered.

Theo pulled out too quickly and Trish winced a little.

“Yes.”

“And you had a nightmare last night.”

Theo bristled. She didn’t want to talk about it.

“You can touch me whenever you need. Or want. Forever.”

“Forever?” Theo smiled at the thought, reaching for Trish’s hand. She touched the gold wedding band on Trish’s fourth finger. It always brought her back to the day they got married. Small and quiet. A justice of the peace. A shared bottle of wine. So much of Trish made her feel calm and centred. She wondered if she provided the same for Trish. She hoped she did.

“Feeling better, love?”

Theo nodded.

“Can we get Thai now?” Trish looked so hopeful, as she pushed herself up to look down into Theo’s face. Theo laughed. Genuinely.

“Of course.”

“Oh, about tomorrow with your family?” Trish rolled off Theo, reaching for her discarded hoodie on the floor.

“Hmm?”

“Want to see if we can steal that bottle of wine Shirley keeps hidden in the front closet?”

Theo laughed again, watching Trish with a mixed sense of awe and gratitude.

“Obviously,” she said and Trish pumped her fist before disappearing from the room. Theo could hear her on the phone placing an order, but made no effort to move.

She lay back, still tangled in her sweater, and stared at the ceiling.

“The rest is confetti, hey mom?” She asked out loud.

No answer came. It never did.

Theo sat up, pulling her sweater over her head and tossing it over the edge of the bed. She considered finding something warm to wear, but instead picked up a tank top Trish used for PJs.

She wasn’t cold anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments are love. No, seriously, THEY'RE ALL I HAVE TO GET ME THROUGH THE COLD WINTER.


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